


May Death Find You Alive

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, Halloween, Mid-Canon, Pre-Relationship, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amidst trying to save the world, Celes learns to step back and take a deep breath. She just didn't expect <i>him</i> to show her how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Death Find You Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna_Manar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Manar/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Luna! <3

The earth was once lush with greenery and life. Since Kefka ascended to his godhood, flowers wilted, animals died, and the lives of humanity rotted from the inside out. Not everything died, though. Life still meandered about the forsaken land, which stretched on for eternity. Every horizon promised a bleak outcome, but some believed a glimmer of hope lied past it all.

It was enough incentive to invigorate Celes past the Solitary Island and gather the remaining members of the Returners. With each individual discovered, regardless of how stubborn they were, they added to their numbers along with a reason to persevere. If they could survive the catastrophe, then they could find a way to restore balance to the world they all knew and loved.

Though challenges continued to face them. Rations were nothing luxurious with the lack of crops and livestock. General supplies were no better. Most villages had items leftover, though merchants sold them at steep prices. It didn’t benefit the group when they burned through potions and medical equipment faster than a flame gobbling up a dry forest. They tallied up inventory of their supplies and used them sparingly. Regardless, they required frequent trips to restock at the various towns.

They took turns heading out, traveling in pairs, and Celes’ turn to fetch the next batch of refills loomed over her. She counted her gil for the third time while waiting for the Falcon to land. Her coin pouch thinned out over the months. She sighed; the pocket change was enough to purchase a few potions for each member. Not good enough in her mind. Even if they all relied on magic for healing, they would require a means to replenish their mental energies.

 _The sooner this is over with, the better,_ Celes thought in regards to accomplishing their end goal, let alone the task to acquire supplies. Kefka’s destruction would at least instill fresh hope into the people of the world. Maybe then merchants wouldn’t feel the need to spike up prices just to survive or perhaps that too was wishful thinking.

Once the Falcon landed, she peered past the railing and out to Jidoor. The town was no more than a ten minute walk. Any creature stupid enough to hunt her down was to be annihilated by a Blizzaga. It had been some time since she stepped foot into the high-class settlement. Without a doubt, the wealthy merchants turned depraved and continued to sell their wares at ridiculous prices. Celes by no means was in a mood to deal with any Jidoorian noble.

“You about ready to depart?”

She wasn’t prepared for the interruption of her thoughts. Looking over her shoulder, she eyed Setzer by his usual post at the wheel. Celes furrowed her brow, though curiosity nibbled at her upon spotting Setzer donning a thicker coat with a matching set of leather gloves.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

He finished buttoning up his coat and motioned to the town in the distance. “Last I checked, I was to be accompanying you to Jidoor for supplies.” He paused and cocked his head. “Or did you miss that part?”

Celes huffed up while he smirked. Of course someone thought it was a _brilliant_ idea to pair her with Setzer. She half imagined it was Edgar’s idea, giggling the whole while.

It wasn’t that she disliked Setzer. Fortunately, their time spent together since the world collapsed into ruin was far more amicable than their fleeting moments beforehand. At one time, Celes dismissed the man altogether. He was a means to an end and Celes was prepared at any given moment for Setzer to fly off without them. A shallow gambler wasn’t to be trusted, even if he offered his good word to her upon losing in their bet.

Time, however, manipulated Setzer and changed more than his facade; it morphed his soul. At first glance, Celes didn’t recognize the drunkard cradling the bottle of scotch in Kohlingen. Part of her empathized, for she too once clung onto a piece of patterned fabric when she believed to be alone.

Her annoyances with him faded out into a haze since their reunion. True, he persisted in his flirting with her and went out of his way to crawl under her skin, but his poker face faltered more times than not. Celes was no different; the armor of ice she continued to hide within splintered. Whether they liked it or not, they mirrored one another as fragmented pieces comprising of a whole entity to trick the world into believing they never cracked to begin with. Celes witnessed the fractures in Setzer. So did he - or he had to with her. They never passed verbal judgment over one another.

At times she reminded herself to not be generous in her kindness with the man who conducted the grand scheme of kidnapping an opera star. Other times she couldn’t help but feel at ease around him. The conflicting ideas caused Celes to grind her teeth and glare at him while he finished fastening his gloves. One second she believed she could wear her heart upon her sleeves around him. The next she swore she was ready to throw him off of his damn airship and figure out how to pilot the blasted contraption herself.

“So... Jidoor?”

Setzer’s voice snapped her back to reality; another aspect she couldn’t tell whether to adore or loathe. “Yes. What about it?”

Motioning to the door leading to the lower deck, Setzer kept his sights on Celes. “Best be on our way then, no? I’d rather _not_ be walking back in the dark.”

“Afraid of the dark, are we?”

“Hardly,” he replied with a smirk. “Though shopping in Jidoor means one can easily forget the time which passes by.”

“We’re buying potions and rations, Setzer, not new shoes and jewelry.”

“Well, if _you_ _’re_ inclined to do so, I’m by no means stopping you.”

He motioned to the door and Celes trotted on over. She descended down the levels of the Falcon with Setzer behind her, the clicks of his heels more pronounced than her boots along the wood and metal panels. The hatch leading to the ground wasn’t as sophisticated as the ramp once installed in the Blackjack. Darill must not have been bothered with climbing up narrow, rickety steps to reach her airship. Maybe it detracted others from following her. Everyone but Setzer. When he offered his hand to her upon reaching them, Celes ignored him and traveled down by herself. He said not a word about her stubborn defiance.

The sun hung in the blue, afternoon skies. Few clouds drifted by, though the wind had yet to die down since they docked along the plain. Celes rather enjoyed the brisk air flowing over her face and through her hair. As for Setzer, he remained bundled up in his ensemble.

“Not cold?” he mentioned along the way to Jidoor.

Celes wore her usual attire, though her cloak served more as decoration than to deter the wind from enveloping her. By far, Celes had more skin exposed than he did.

She shrugged her shoulders and kept her eyes on their destination. “Never.”

“Ah, so it _is_ true then!”

Celes groaned to herself. “What is?”

“Terra made mention of how you were lined with ice as she was with fire. I thought she was stretching the truth a bit. Wouldn’t know unless I asked you, hmm?”

She slowed down while glaring him. “And this has to do with our trip to Jidoor _how_?”

Anyone would have cowered upon the sight of the mighty General - former General now - staring down those who she deemed to be inferior. Then there was Setzer, meeting her gaze and smiling back.

“Nothing,” he said. “Merely an observation. A delightful one at that.”

 _Delightful?_ Celes blinked and her mouth fell ajar. _What could possibly be delightful about infused blood frozen to the core?_

Before she could ask Setzer more on the matter, he walked past her. “Come along! Almost to the town proper. Should be past any busy crowds at this hour.” He paused. “Well, that is... _if_ the place hasn’t changed since before all of... _this_.”

When they approached Jidoor, they were met not with shoddy ruins, but a diligent effort to maintain appearances. Jidoor too suffered losses, much like the rest of the world, but unlike everyone else, Jidoor refused to acknowledge the travesty which had forsaken the land they once loved. Blinded to the outside world and even the handful of broken homes, Jidoor lived in the bubble it created for its elegant people.

Celes sighed over the sight. Then again, these were the same folk who mistook her for an opera singer almost two years ago upon stepping foot into the territory. The _nerve_ those folk had. Though when they traveled down the streets, no one recognized her. She was relieved, yet perplexed by the notion; it appeared the nobles were far more fickle than they let on.

Though what caught Celes’ eye more than the lack of opera fans gawking at her were the odd decorations lining the streets and buildings - a plethora of autumn colors. Pumpkins sat on every corner, painted in various patterns with black, white, and gold ink. Scented candles sat in every window and the aroma of spiced apples and squash danced in the breeze. Celes inhaled it while they scouted for merchants and hummed with approval upon exhaling.

Unlike Celes, Setzer proved to be useful in multiple fronts. Sometimes she forgot he was a businessman before he was ever a member of the Returners. Setzer played the part well as he bartered with the merchants. Celes stood off to the side, watching him counterattack every price with a lower one without missing a beat. His tongue was as slick as his hands were with a deck of cards. One could admire such a feat.

And abhor it. Celes couldn’t decide which one she leaned more towards.

Along with his charisma, Setzer was a familiar face in Jidoor. On multiple instances, they stopped so Setzer could converse with another person. Perhaps they were old friends or maybe acquaintances who were happy to see someone else hadn’t died. Again Celes waited. He would dip into his native language with the others and his presence alone earned them quite a deal of potions. It even garnered them a few recommendations in regards to wares they had yet to encounter along their journey. All for a price, of course, but Setzer’s wallet knew no bounds.

“Celes?”

She perked up and blinked, tearing her sights away from the collection of pumpkins painted in white faces, like a blend of lace and spider webs. In her arms was a basket of items they acquired for the Falcon. From a quick glance, they were well-supplied for double the length of time. But Setzer didn’t look at the items; he focused on her blue eyes.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

 _Is it that obvious?_ She averted her gaze from him to scan over the decorations populating the vicinity. “I couldn’t help but notice all the embellishments within Jidoor. It’s... a touch excessive, is it not?”

Setzer contorted his face, taken aback. “Excessive? For _Jidoor_?”

Celes sighed. “Or not.”

Stepping towards her, Setzer examined the pumpkins and candles. “Though to be fair, I’m rather surprised they’re still going through with _la Toussaint_.” He approached one of the pumpkins and knocked a loose fist against it. “Just as I suspected. Must be wax.” Setzer tossed a mischievous expression back to Celes. “They probably thought no one would notice. Suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as everything looks the part, no?”

“But....” Celes tilted her head and examined her surroundings once more. “Why do all of this? Why now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Celes caught his eyes, pushing blonde hair out of her face as the wind picked up. “Is it?”

“The one day within the year we dedicate to those who have passed on. It’s tradition, after all. Only fitting to do so when more lives have been lost than needed.”

For a split second, Celes swore his face faltered. Many lives had been lost in little time, but there was no denying that a particular soul surfaced in his mind when he uttered those words. Setzer might have been a world-class gambler, but he couldn’t bluff with everything. Not when the one who touched his heart spurred him to create a vast memorial in place of a simple tombstone.

Celes’ heart skipped a beat. She prepared to apologize, only to catch herself. _Apologize for what? It_ _’s not my fault that he’s lost someone. We all have... but this is different._ When she first met him, she wouldn’t have guessed that he was capable of holding anyone dear enough to warrant affection. He was the type of man to toy with the hearts of others, yet all this time he was only searching for a way to mend his.

Again she empathized with him. Again she wanted to close the distance between them and smack his damn face.

Setzer inhaled and grinned. “Ah! But the cider’s real!”

“The what?”

“Take it Vector never had mulled cider?”

She shook her head. “Can’t say we did.”

“Then you’re in for a treat, _ma cherie_.”

Celes attempted to sniff for the cider Setzer spoke of. Several scents sifted through the cool, autumn air, including a touch of spiced apples. Before she could say more on the matter, Setzer approached her and pressed a gentle hand into the small of her back.

“Come along,” he said before leading the way.

Her feet moved on their own accord and her eyes fluttered at him. “W-what? Where are we going?”

Setzer cocked his head. “To delight you in the autumn wares of Jidoor. Would be a sin if we left town without you having a taste of mulled cider.”

She furrowed her brow. “Setzer, we are _not_ here to be taste testing _things_.”

“Mulled cider,” he corrected her with a raised finger. “Not things.”

“Whatever.” Celes heaved out a sigh. “We shouldn’t be holding up the others in the Falcon.”

One of his delicate eyebrows perked up. “May I remind you that you’re in the presence of said airship’s pilot and without me, nobody is going anywhere.”

“Edgar would try.”

Setzer reared his head back to bellow out in amusement. “Like he would be able to figure out the kill switch installed into the system.” With his laughter dying down, he turned his attention back to her. “Please, Celes, let this be my treat.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I’d _like_ to, if you’d let me.” Again she hesitated and again he leaned in to purr those soft words. “Please?”

She stared down at the bundle of potions. The sooner they boarded the Falcon, the sooner they could leave... and go _where_? It had taken so long for them to reach where they were now. A moment spent relaxing wasn’t going to hurt anyone, even if Celes’ thoughts bombarding her said otherwise. Every wasted second was like an ax hacking into her chest. Maybe she could enjoy this. Maybe she could enjoy Setzer.

Her exhale was laced with defeat. “Fine,” she blurted out, “but not _too_ long. I don’t wish to-”

“Excellent! I know just the place.”

While Celes debated over whether or not anything about this was a good idea, Setzer led her down several blocks to a corner cafe. Compared to the other broken buildings they crossed in their travels, the cafe stood in solid shape; the roof was intact, the dusty windows weren’t broken, and the aroma was without a doubt genuine food from the kitchens. She was about to ask who had the time to stop by a quaint cafe when there were people starving on the streets, only to remember where she was. Jidoor, of all places. The thought left her grumbling.

Setzer held the door open for her as they entered together. The spiced scent once lingering in the air now enveloped her. Her eyes widened to the numerous decorations from within, similar to the ones she found on the street. While Celes inspected the painted pumpkins, Setzer approached the front counter and spoke in the town’s native language. She tucked blonde hair behind her ear and peeked over her shoulder to eye him. The words were foreign to her and she longed to know what it was he said. Each sound was luscious like silk, even if all he was doing was placing an order for mulled cider.

But then he caught her eye and Celes snapped her gaze away.

A moment later, Setzer drew near from behind while she examined the pumpkins. “Do you like them?”

She hummed. “They’re... different.”

“How so?”

“In Vector, we have something similar around this time of year, but no one painted them.”

Curiosity peaked Setzer’s voice. “Oh? Then whatever did you do with them?”

“They were carved into faces,” Celes explained. “Some of them were happy, some were sad, and others were meant to frighten.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of work.”

“So does painting them.”

“Touché.”

Drawing a deep breath, she approached one of the smaller pumpkins, almost the size of her palm. It was painted white with black, gold, and orange polka dots decorating the exterior. She wondered if she could purchase it from the shop owner - it was beyond adorable.

“People would put candles in them,” she told Setzer. “At night, all you could see were faces in the shadows.”

Setzer paused. “That’s quite different. No one would think to do such a thing here. Then again, no one’s wandering the streets at night. Not when there are parties to be had.”

Celes tossed her head back to eye him. Setzer stood behind her, cupping a glass mug of what had to be the mulled cider. “Parties for the dead?”

He grinned. “Is that a touch of sass I’m hearing from you, General Chère?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Then he snickered. “Why don’t we find ourselves a seat before this grows cold?” After a beat, he went on. “Not that I imagine you’d _care_ about a cold drink, but I insist it tastes better hot.”

Setzer beckoned to Celes with a free hand before heading out of the establishment. Outside on the front porch was limited seating. With the chilly wind sweeping by, many preferred the indoors to combat the weather. Though Setzer was right; the cold comforted her more than disturbed her and he was forever bundled up to take on the fierce winds at high altitudes.

She didn’t expect him to pull out a seat for her, yet Celes couldn’t muster a thank you while sitting down. Setzer acted like he needed no gratitude, smiling to himself upon sitting opposite of her. He plopped the cider in front of Celes before digging through the inside of his coat to fetch a cigarette and match. In a simple motion, he struck the match, lit the cigarette, smothered the flame, and drew in a long string of smoke to exhale.

“Are you not going to try it?” he asked, motioning to the cider.

Celes had cupped her hands around it since he passed it her way. Indeed it was hot and Celes feared burning her tongue in the process of consuming it. Perhaps Terra would have fared better with a lava-like concoction. Though being distracted by the likes of Setzer provided no use to Celes. Not when his hands mesmerized her.

“It’s too hot,” Celes said.

“Ah, yes, I hear that’s what happens when you stick a hot poker into liquid.”

She wrinkled her face over his comment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No, but I did.” His lips curled upward. “Well, while we’re waiting for it to cool down-” Setzer sucked on his cigarette. “-tell me more of these Vectorian pumpkins of yours.”

“Why?”

“Color me intrigued, _ma cherie_.”

Celes thought she would sooner throw the mug at his face for calling her that _again_ instead of humoring him over the traditions in Vector. The thought brought a temporary frown to her features.

“We have... _had_ a similar tradition in Vector, much like your....” Celes struggled to match the accent that forever soaked into Setzer’s tongue. “La... la two saint?”

“ _La Toussaint_ ,” he corrected her, effortlessly, beautifully.

“Right.” She convinced herself the cool wind brought a light blush to her cheeks. “Around this time of year, we would celebrate All Hallow’s Eve. I remember reading books as a child about it; people would remember the spirits of the dearly departed. Most would leave out food by the front door to feed the spirits of loved ones. Though over time, the tradition morphed from honoring the deceased to ghost stories. Parents would scare their children at night to prevent them from doing anything stupid.”

“Were you told such stories?”

Her lips quirked up in a flash over the recollection of Cid keeping watch over her. “Not quite. I heard _of_ them, but I think people were too afraid to tell me stories when I went to bed.”

“No bedtime fairy tales for the little miss Chère?”

Celes brought her gaze to Setzer and glared at him. He contained a chuckle somehow.

“As I was saying,” she said, “there would be scary stories passed about. In time, that transformed into... well, everyone trying to scare one another. Children weren’t afraid anymore and instead embraced the stories.” Leaning back in her seat, Celes gazed off to the clouds while recounting her time in Vector. “Children would dress up as the creatures from those stories: ghosts, werewolves, vampires, zombies, and more. Most would run around and terrorize other homes with eggs and pumpkins. Gods, the task forces in charge of patrolling those nights were _livid_. No one ever looked forward to policing the streets with brats running amok.

“So there was an idea to resolve the issue. People took the old tradition of putting out food for the dead and offered it to the children. It took a couple of years, but the children began to go door to door in search of food. It was almost bribery - give us food or we’ll pull a nasty trick on you.”

“That sounds terrible,” Setzer commented with a firm notion of disgust in his tone.

“Yes and no. No one was disturbed with it. It wasn’t like the children were asking for money or killing others. After a while, the people grew smart and offered sweets to the children. _That_ surely shut them up.” She motioned to one of the pumpkins on the opposite side of the street with her chin. “And people filled the streets with carved pumpkins, lit up from the inside. I don’t know why. Maybe to scare away the children? Maybe to light the way within the shadows? Maybe to actually honor the dead?” She shook her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Suppose there are worse things than children vandalizing buildings.”

Without missing a beat, Celes said, “They’d torment black cats, too.”

Setzer almost choked on his cigarette smoke mid-inhalation. “ _What_?”

“It’s an old wives tale in Vector that they bring bad luck. If one crosses your path, something bad is bound to happen in your life soon, so... they’d go after them and....” Celes cut herself off. From the way Setzer reacted, she figured it was best to spare him the details.

For a quiet moment, he stared with a gaping mouth. “Really?” When Celes nodded, he continued. “That’s horrific. Here in Jidoor? Such creatures are considered _good_ luck.”

Celes tilted her head, beyond perplexed. “They are?”

“Of course! Have you never pet one before? Quite plush. And they’re no different from other cats. Actually, I’ve found them to be friendlier than most. They’re rare, though I imagine if one crossed your path here, you’ll be fighting with a noble over who gets to bring the prized creature home.”

Celes blinked. “Huh. I never would have thought of that.”

He smirked and winked. “Because you haven’t pet one yet.”

She couldn’t tell if the comment was supposed to mean something else besides the obvious and quite frankly, Celes wasn’t about to press that topic. Instead, she leaned into the table, still clutching her drink. “I take it Jidoor doesn’t have delinquent children running loose at night?”

“Are you kidding me?” Setzer snorted. “Everyone’s too busy with the festivities _inside_ to be even bothered with what’s taking place on the streets.”

“How so?”

Once he nursed his cigarette, Setzer reclined further into his seat and cast his gaze elsewhere. The breeze combed through the loose strands of silvery hair. He tapped long fingers along the table while the corner of his lips curled up.

“Much like your Vector,” he explained, “the people of Jidoor forgot the old ways. At one point, everyone would gather candles and flowers for visits to graves in order to pay their respects. I always thought it was silly to pick _one day_ a year to do so. If someone means so much to you, then why not visit more often? Suppose we Jidoorians can’t be bothered by trivial matters, but-” He sighed and shrugged. “-nothing you can do about it, no? So of course it’s only _natural_ for Jidoor to do what it does best.”

“Which is?”

Setzer motioned an open palm towards her. “Entertain with the most lavish gala ever, of course.”

 _Shocking,_ Celes thought. _Why did I even ask?_

“But not just _any_ gala,” Setzer continued. He repositioned himself, leaning over the table to brace himself with his forearms. His violet eyes latched onto Celes’ and his voice continued to draw her in. “Give Jidoor a reason to throw a social gathering and everyone flows with it. I wish I had a book, much like you did, to explain to me the origins of the costume parties which took place, but I’m afraid you’ll have to suspend your disbelief with me, _ma cherie_. Some events had themes for said costumes while others only had the rule that you were to dress to impress.”

Setzer inhaled smoke with a light moan as he reminisced over the topic. “Oh, the _outfits_ people would wear. It was _divine_.” A ribbon of smoke flowed past his lips. “People would dress as mythical creatures. Others would pretend to be akin to royalty for an evening. And then there were those who wished to push the boundaries of avant garde for nothing else than to provide the entire town a reason to speak of their rose petal gown for months, if not _years_. Of course, everyone desired to be in the spotlight. And to get drunk,” he noted with a raised finger. “But nothing to do with the children. Ah, the children.... The parents would soak candied apples in alcohol and give it to them before the parties in hopes they’d pass out in time.”

Celes’ eyes widened. “That’s _horrible_!”

“It worked.”

“And you’d know?!”

“Oh _please_! Don’t say it like that!” Setzer chuckled. “Never did it myself, but my parents were smart enough to give me _two_ instead of one if they didn’t want me dangling from the chandelier to see what the commotion was about.”

The image of a tiny Setzer swinging from a chandelier while a party developed below left Celes torn between giggling and smacking herself in the face.

“Why am I not surprised?” she ended up saying.

In response, he grinned. “Am I _that_ predictable?”

“You’d be a shitty gambler if you were.”

To that, he roared in laughter. “Ah, right you are! Suppose I should keep you on your toes, hmm?”

Celes sighed and shook her head. “Just... don’t give spiked apples to Gau or Relm, for the love of the gods.”

“Now now, that’s outright being _rude_.” Setzer drew in more smoke. “I’d only do that to Edgar.”

It appeared out of nowhere, striking her stomach, then tickled up her insides until it fluttered out of her tight lips - Celes _laughed_. All she could dwell on was the image of Setzer leaving a basket of apples outside of Edgar’s quarters and the poor king devouring all of them into a drunken stupor. Once she contained the bout of laughter, she caught Setzer’s eye.

He bit back a smug grin while several sparks fired off in his mischievous eyes. She was no stranger to that very look. Back when she proposed they bet on his allegiance aboard the Blackjack, he flashed her a similar, if not identical expression. Years ago, she dismissed the gaze, but Celes found no means of escaping the intensity of it now.

Thus she reverted back to her ice shell and prayed the heat from her cheeks wouldn’t melt it. “ _What_?”

Setzer breathed out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, but I must have been imagining that just now.”

“Then let’s go with that and agree it never happened.”

“You _laughed_.”

“Yes, I’m capable of doing so.”

“You never have in front of me.”

“Perhaps you never gave me a reason to do so?”

The amusement died in his face the instant her razor-sharp words sliced into him. The fire in his eyes snuffed out. Regretting her choice in words, Celes formulated an apology in her head, but Setzer cut her off before she ever parted her lips.

“Forgive me then, Celes,” he said. “It wasn’t my intention to prod at you. I’m simply... comforted in knowing you’re happy. That’s all.”

She denied the notion her heart skipped a beat then or that the subtle hitch in her throat existed. His muscles had softened while he spoke and despite the cool breeze lapping over his face, the warmth spilled out of his mouth. Celes couldn’t recall anyone claiming to find comfort in her happiness. She struck fear into people, whether she intended to do so or not. Though Setzer? Fear had yet to run across his features. Curiosity, maybe, and definitely lust. At least at one point it had. What faced her now she couldn’t pinpoint.

Perhaps this was what content was for him. He never did broadcast it to anyone else. Was it reserved for only her then? She chewed at her lip over the thought and lowered her gaze.

“Do you not want your drink?”

“Hmm?”

Setzer motioned to the cider with the nub of a cigarette left in his fingers. “If you’re truly not interested, I can relieve you of it.”

“No,” Celes blurted out, “it’s... I’ll drink. Was just....” _Distracted. By you. As always._

A cinnamon stick sat in the cloudy liquid. Cloves, nutmeg, and allspice circulated within the concoction while cinnamon sugar crystals lined the rim. Celes inhaled the rising steam and exhaled with a slight smile. The scent alone was decadent; she could only imagine the taste itself. Thus she brought it to her lips for a cautious sip. While still hot, it cooled down considerably since she first acquired it.

Licking her lips, Celes hummed while the sweet, yet spicy liquid warmed her up from the inside. Then she consumed more, the cinnamon stick bumping into her nose while she took greedy gulps.

Setzer chuckled. “Do you like it?”

This time, she cooed. “I’ve... never had anything like this. It’s delicious.”

“So are you still upset over our little detour?”

Celes looked up from her mug. Setzer finished off his cigarette and chucked it to the street before perching his cheek upon a loose fist. A calm washed over him while he watched her. It left Celes fidgeting in place.

Her blue eyes narrowed onto him. “I’m more upset I’m just now discovering this drink.”

His lips widened into a grin. “You’re welcome.”

Silence drifted between them while Celes drank the cider. She purred with every gulp, only to frown when she reached the bottom of the mug. After a tiny whine, she placed it back onto the table. Her eyes flicked up to Setzer, who hadn’t moved an inch. He never stopped smiling.

“What?” she groaned out.

“Am I not allowed to revel in the sight of a lady enjoying herself?”

What if she said no? Was he going to apologize again? As Celes ran her hands over one another, she discovered she didn’t _want_ to say no.

“I’m... not used to someone watching me. For any reason.”

“Then you’ll have to forgive me.”

“For what?”

Setzer slowly rose from his seat, readjusting his coat all the while. “I fear it would be difficult for me to cease doing so at this point.”

_What is that supposed to mean?_

Before she could ask further, Setzer swiped the empty mug from the table and retreated inside to return it to the cafe owner. The simple task proved to be timelier than Celes imagined; once she stood up and collected the basket of potions, Setzer hadn’t returned. Celes waited on the porch, watching the few pedestrians on the street. The wind played with her hair and cloak, though she never shivered.

When the door creaked open, Celes spied behind her, then gasped. In Setzer’s hand was the tiny pumpkin she had gazed upon with utter adoration. He extended it out to her.

“W-what is this?” Celes asked, even when she fully knew.

“For you, _ma cherie_ ,” Setzer replied. “A memento of our time spent here today, if you’ll have it.”

Balancing the basket into the crook of her arm, Celes scooped the pumpkin out of his gloved hand with absolute care. Unlike the wax ones on the streets, this one held substantial weight for a little pumpkin. Without a doubt, it was real. The only downside was the notion of the living object one day wilting and rotting before it died out. Just like everything else in their ruined world. Celes frowned over the thought.

“Do you not like it?” Setzer asked, a hint of concern laced in his voice.

“No, it’s not that.” She sighed. “It’s... a shame that I can’t keep it forever.”

A hand fell upon her shoulder and the warmth raced through her quicker than the mulled cider had. “Then I shall keep returning here to fetch you little pumpkins if it means you’ll keep smiling.”

Her heart fluttered faster than her eyelashes did. “Setzer, you don’t-”

“ _I_ don’t have to do _many_ things, _ma cherie_ , but may I remind you that a _certain_ blonde is quite convincing and thus sways me to do things I normally would never do.”

Celes looked over the pumpkin again and placed it in the basket. “Thank you,” she said.

“ _Je t_ _’en prie_ ,” he purred back.

They walked away from the cafe and returned to their original trail leading to the Falcon. Past the buildings, the airship peeked out along the horizon. On and off, Celes gazed upon the pumpkin nestled within the potions, wondering where she would put it within the airship. The interior of the Falcon lacked the luxury once residing within the Blackjack. Celes figured Darill wasn’t one for the lavish decorations that Setzer adored. And yet they crossed paths and could never separate themselves for one another.

Then her mind wandered away from the present moment. She recalled the vast tomb Setzer brought her, Edgar, and Sabin to in order to unearth the Falcon. He didn’t smile then. For so long, she was used to his flirtatious antics, but when he traveled down the last set of stairs with the group, not a drop of humor left his mouth. Back then, she wished she could have done something to rouse a smile onto his lips again, even if it meant bringing his long lost lover back to life.

Her steps slowed down. A beat later, Setzer took note and pivoted on his heels. When their eyes met, she noted the raised eyebrow over the puzzled expression upon his face. Again her heart raced and she swallowed down whatever fear she convinced herself was swimming within.

“Can we....” Celes hesitated, then shoved the basket into his arms. “Give me a second.”

He blinked and attempted to grab her attention, but Celes skittered off into a nearby shop. Setzer didn’t follow. When she reemerged a couple minutes later, she bore a lighter gil pouch and a single black candle, decorated in fine lines of gold paints depicting a cat in a pumpkin patch.

She extended it to Setzer, but he contorted his face. “And what is this for?”

“For you,” she insisted. When his silence served as a reply, Celes continued. “You said there was a time when people would spend the season returning to the tombs of loved ones to honor the departed, right?” It wasn’t immediate, but Setzer did nod. “I remember... reading one of the many books about this season. There was a tale about how the veil separating the living from the deceased thins out and the two overlap. Some believed it was the only time when spirits walked amongst us. There were mentions of candles being lit to help guide the spirits from getting lost. Put them on their grave and they’ll find their way back.” But then Setzer remained silent and Celes sighed while dropping her gaze. “Or maybe it’s as stupid as it sounds. I thought that you could... I don’t know....”

She didn’t expect a hand to cup over hers. The touch of leather smoothed over her calloused fingertips. Craning her head back, she found Setzer’s eyes. She swore they glossed over, but then he blinked and reverted back to his poker face.

“Thank you,” he murmured, then scooped the candle up to place it next to the pumpkin.

Part of her wished to ask if he would fly back to Darill’s tomb to light it. Or maybe he’d light it in her old cabin, the one he resided in when he wished to escape the weight of attempting to save the world. Though Celes also knew that if she inquired on the matter, Setzer would dance around the topic like the gambler he was. So instead, she accepted his quietness as the best answer she would receive.

She kept up with his pace, blinking as the sinking sun caught her eyes. Not quite dark, but also not ideal traveling conditions. Setzer insisted on carrying the basket and Celes huffed over his stubbornness. The remainder of their walk back was done so in silence, yet Celes was comfortable with it. Just as she was comfortable with drifting a little closer to the man who introduced her to the delicacy of mulled cider.

It wasn’t until they reached the tricky hatch when Setzer broke the silence. “I have a thought.”

Celes blinked at him while he stabilized the ladder. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

As if on cue, he laughed. “I haven’t even told you yet! You’re simply no fun.”

With a sigh, Celes rolled her eyes. “Fine. Humor me.”

“I would very much like to bring you to one of those galas Jidoor puts on. The one with the costumes.” Preparing to head up the hatch, Setzer looked back to her. “You’d have heads turning for sure.”

“In a _dress_?”

“A _costume_. Use your imagination, _ma cherie_. I’m sure you’d do more justice in a suit than most of the men there would.”

She tried not to smirk. “Really?”

He nodded. “Truly.”

“And what would _you_ dress up as?”

“Ah! What haven’t I dressed as? The last time I frequented such an event, I believe I was a pirate. Had quite the fancy hat, too.”

“Big ol’ plume in it?”

“Three, mind you.” Traveling up the hatch, he continued. “Though I fear I didn’t have a deadly sea maiden to lure me away from the festivities.”

Celes paused along the rickety rungs. “Sea maiden?”

“Oh, please tell me you have _some_ culture in you and have read the tales of the grandiose pirate captains being seduced by mermaids and sirens. They’d crash their ships just to be with the ones lulling them into euphoria with their intoxicating songs.”

“I might have read of such tales.”

“They are the best!”

Celes narrowed her eyes while following him up the hatch. “They _died_ in the end.”

“Ah, yes!” Setzer reached the top and placed the basket down. “And what a magnificent way to go.”

Then he extended his hand to Celes, like he always had. Each time, she ignored him. She was above a man’s help. Life in the military reminded her to never place blind trust in one who could knock her out of balance and send her plummeting to the ground. She didn’t require Setzer’s aid, but she couldn’t deny the warmth he pumped into her. He didn’t dare to rip her apart; he wished to spark something inside to watch her come to life.

And as much as Celes wished to deny it, it was working.

Thus she slipped her hand into his.

While his frame was far lither than hers, Setzer possessed enough strength to heave her up into the Falcon. Her footing lost composure in the process, though he caught her. Or perhaps she collided into him. Celes couldn’t tell. The truth of the matter was Celes now pressed into him, her free hand bracing along his chest and her breath freezing in her lungs.

His heart pumped as wildly as hers.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Celes nodded frantically. “Yes.”

Yet neither of them pulled away from one another.

“I meant what I said, Celes.”

She brought her gaze to his. The tips of their noses met.

“It would be my honor to bring you to one of Jidoor’s finest galas. No dresses, no expectations. Just an evening of utter delight.”

Celes licked at her lips. “I’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Hardly. We’ll make sure you dress the part.”

“As what?”

His chuckle was lighter than the air and his smirk sent a chill up her spine. “Is it too much for a pirate to ask for his sea maiden?”

“And have me kill you?”

She waited for him to laugh, but he never did. Instead, Setzer turned his head away to bring her hand up to his lips. The warmth emitting from the softness melted her being. The kiss lingered along her palm. Celes resisted the urge to curl her fingers into his face and skim over his scars.

When he pulled back, his lips ghosted over her skin, though his eyes latched onto hers. “I’d gladly accept such a fate if it meant a night with you.”

She could have smacked him. She could have ripped her hand out of his and marched off. She could have laughed over his dumb illusion of the future when they hadn’t even laid Kefka to rest. She could have yanked him in close to kiss at those very lips which put new thoughts into her already confused mind.

“I wouldn’t want to light a candle for you each year, though,” Celes found herself whispering.

A hum vibrated above her palm. “And I never would desire that for you, either.”

Before she could grow fond of their new position, Setzer stepped back and worked on closing the hatch. The moment vanished and Celes busied herself with scooping up the basket to bring back to the group.

“Will there be mulled cider?” she asked.

Setzer peered over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“At these galas. Do they have some?”

And he laughed. “ _Ma cherie_ , there are all sorts of delights at these events. I’ll be sure to introduce you to every one of them.” They walked together towards the main foyer, though Setzer looked in her direction. “But none of those silly carved pumpkins of yours.”

“They’re _not_ silly.”

“Are too.”

“At least we don’t intoxicate our children in order to have some fun.”

“Well, you _should_. It _works_.”

Celes whacked his arm and Setzer’s laughter rang throughout the Falcon.


End file.
